


Hearts Don't Break Around Here

by xaestheticsx



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: (previous tags are briefly mentioned), Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Pining, Romantic Tension, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:25:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaestheticsx/pseuds/xaestheticsx
Summary: Tony cuts him off with a wet laugh, because of course Clay Jensen would ride over on his bike at 4 AM. Maybe he’d do it for anyone, but Tony would like to think maybe he’s different. Maybe he’s more important to him.





	1. Chapter 1

“I knew I shouldn’t have left.”

 

Clay’s voice is frantic, each passing word only getting louder and more desperate as his hands wave around in the air.

 

“I left, and then Bryce raped Jessica. And Hannah saw, then Sheri knocked down the stop sign, then Jeff died, and it all started with me!”

 

Clay walks to the edge of the cliff, his face tinged a blotchy red and wet with tears. Tony watches with a tight chest, that feeling of hopelessness clawing at his insides again. Just like it did when he found Hannah that day. He feels lost, and he’s sure Clay does right now, too. But he can’t bring himself to move from where he’s standing. One wrong step and he might lose Clay, just like he lost Hannah. He can’t go through that again. He can’t lose anyone else.

 

“Clay,” Tony starts, his voice weak, “I think you gotta get back from that edge.”

 

But Clay steps closer anyway, staring down at the darkness below them. It’s littered with headlights and street lamps and the dull buzz of the city life. Alive and vibrant. It’s ironic, considering how Clay feels the complete opposite.

 

He finally turns around to face Tony, and there’s an empty look in his eyes that makes Tony’s throat burn and close up.

 

“Why? Why shouldn’t I just jump, just let go?”

 

Tony can’t speak, he can’t move. His legs are frozen in place despite how desperately he wants to run over to Clay and rip him away from that edge and yell at him for being so stupid and selfish. Why would he even think to leave him like this, after everything they’ve been through? After what happened to Hannah?

 

It’s silent, complete stillness except for the scrap of Clay’s shoes against the rocks beneath his feet.

 

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Clay chokes out.

 

Before Tony could even take one more breath, Clay steps back and he’s gone, the sound of the wind whipping around him as he falls off the cliff.

 

“ _Clay_!”

 

Tony jolts awake, his chest heaving through violent breaths. It’s been nearly two months since that night, and even though Clay never actually jumped from that cliff, he’s still having nightmares about it. The same dream over and over again. And he knows Clay is probably at home right now, safe and sleeping in his bed. But he also knows he won’t be able to get back to sleep if he doesn’t check on him.

 

 ** _Tony:_ ** Hey, you up?

 

Clay probably won’t wake up from just one text, especially if he’s fast asleep. But Tony can’t help it. Not when his stomach continues to twists into knots, tightening with each passing minute.

 

 ** _Tony:_ ** It’s not an emergency or anything, just couldn’t sleep. I don’t want you to freak out when you see this in the morning. Hope I don’t wake you.

 

 _God_ , he sounds like a dumbass. Before he can toss his phone aside and try to fall back asleep, though, his phone lights up with a text.

 

 ** _Clay:_** Where in the hell did the Tony Padilla I know go? Are you sure this isn’t Clay Jensen I’m talking to?

 

 ** _Clay:_** As you can see, this is why I work at the Crestmont and not as a stand up comedian. Everything okay?

 

Although Tony’s eyes prick with tears because he’s _still_ thinking about that nightmare, he can’t help but laugh. Because Clay is _Clay_ , and you couldn’t ask for anyone better than that. It feels like the biggest relief just to hear from him, as stupid as it sounds. Whether he cracked a lame joke again or just ended up telling him to fuck off for waking him up. Clay would never do that, though, and Tony knew that.

 

 ** _Tony:_** I don’t know. I had another nightmare again and couldn’t get back to sleep. I really am sorry for waking you up.

 

 ** _Clay:_** Wait, another nightmare? Since when have you been having nightmares?

 

Typical Clay. Tony could easily lie and say he forgot he never mentioned it to him, but he knows that deep down inside he didn’t want to keep it to himself anymore. Clay was going through enough shit of his own when the nightmares started. He didn’t want him to feel guilty for something else, especially after listening to his own tape, for fuck’s sake. So it was just easier to keep quiet and deal with it on his own.

 

 ** _Tony:_** It’s nothing, just a lot of shit on my mind that ends up in my dreams. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.

 

It’s barely a second later and his phone is lighting up, but this time it’s a call. Clay’s name is nearly illegible through Tony’s blurred, tired eyes. He answers, but he doesn't even get the chance to say anything before Clay’s voice is ringing through the phone.

 

“Are . . . are you having nightmares about me?”

 

Tony can't ignore the guilt interlaced in his words, no matter how much he wanted to.

 

“Clay, I’m fine. It’s just a stupid dream and I should have never bothered—”

 

“Cut the bullshit, Tony,” Clays snaps angrily, “Can’t you just talk to me? It’s always about everyone else, why can’t we just talk about you?”

 

“Fine. You wanna know? I’ve been having nightmares about you killing yourself,” Tony replies, his words blunt but his heart pounding heavily in his chest, “It’s when we were at the cliff. You just finished your tape and instead of coming back over to me you . . . you just jumped off the fucking cliff, without even a second thought and I—”

 

Tony’s voice breaks off, feeling tears welling in his eyes. “I couldn’t do anything to save you, just like with Hannah, and Jeff, and Alex. I just fucking stood there and watched you die.”

 

Clay is still silent on the other end, and all Tony can bring himself to do is swallow back the sob that's building up in his throat. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just kept his damn mouth shut and—.

 

“What the fuck, Tony?” Clay breathes out, interrupting Tony’s rambling thoughts, “Do . . . do you want me to come over? I’ve got my bike. I know you’re on the other side of town and it’ll take me awhile. But if I cut through some alleys I might—”

 

Tony cuts him off with a wet laugh, because _of course_ Clay Jensen would ride over on his bike at 4 AM. Maybe he’d do it for anyone, but Tony would like to think maybe he’s different. Maybe he’s more important to him.

 

“If anyone is going anywhere, it’ll be _me_ picking _you_ up. No more late night bike rides for you, alright?” Tony tries to play it off as a joke, but it comes off more serious than he was hoping.

 

“Yeah, whatever you want,” Clay quickly promises. And although he’s relieved Clay is actually listening to him for once, he can’t help but feel disappointed at the same time. He wishes he could see him, even if it were just for a minute.

 

“So, I’ll see you in about . . . ten minutes then?”

 

“Wait, what?” Tony asks, immediately jumping up from his bed and reaching for his keys. Did he not _just_ say he wasn’t going anywhere?

 

“Well, if I can’t come to you, you gotta come to me. You said so yourself.”

 

“Sure, Clay,” Tony mumbles softly, visibly relaxing as he tugs on his shoes and jacket. “Just, stay put, okay? Promise me?”

 

“I promise,” Clay replies with a yawn, and Tony can hear rustling in the background, like he was curling up in his blanket. Hopefully he gets there before he falls back asleep.

 

———

 

“You look very ruggedly handsome when you’re tired. Like, you’ve got that disheveled, broody look really going for you,” Clay says tiredly as he’s climbing into the Mustang, wearing nothing but his boxers.

 

“Uh, _what_?” Tony can feel his face heat up, not only from what he said, but because Clay is sitting next to him. _Half naked_.

 

“Where in the hell are your clothes, Clay?”

 

Clay laughs and leans over to nudge him, like he didn’t just blatantly flirt with him or anything. Of course not.

 

“If I made any more noise my parents would have woke up,” Clay replies, outreached hand waiting expectantly for something, “Plus, I thought you’d might give me your jacket if I were susceptible to freezing to death. You have a really cool fucking jacket.”

 

“Right,” Tony says, nodding like he understands whatever the fuck is going on.

 

He watches as Clay puts on the jacket and wraps it around himself tightly, noticing how baggy it looks in some areas because of his small frame. He probably shouldn’t be looking at his best friend this way, but he can’t keep focus on anything else.

 

“You know I’m here for you, right?” Clay asks suddenly, his voice quiet. “You’ve always looked out for me, from the very beginning. I just . . . I just want to do the same for you.”

 

“Always, Clay,” Tony nods, holding back a smile because Clay really is just the sweetest fucking guy. He’s always thought that about him. He’s always thought a lot of things, though. Maybe he’ll get around to telling him one day.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Clay asks, his face scrunching up like a confused, lost puppy. If it weren’t for those damn eyes, maybe he wouldn’t have fallen so hard in the first place.

 

“About how lucky I am,” Tony says easily, reaching down to play one of the cassettes that he knows Clay likes best. “And how grateful I am to have someone so special in my life.”

 

“I’d say that person is pretty lucky, too, for you to say something like that,” Clay mumbles, completely oblivious to what Tony meant as his eyes fight to keep open.

 

“Sure, Clay. Whatever you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first story that I've written regarding 13 Reasons Why, so I hope I've done Tony and Clay justice! I mean, these two really are just the cutest. I barely made it halfway through the show before I was already shipping them, but who can blame me? ;) I'm not sure if I'll do a continuation of this or start a totally new piece, but I'm sure I'll be writing about these two again very soon!


	2. Chapter 2

“Why does it always come back to him?”

 

Clay hears a voice—a loud and undeniably _pissed_ voice—as he rounds the corner of the street on his bike. He quickly goes to slow down as he nears the Padilla’s driveway because the voices start to grow louder, finally coming to a stop beside the bushes so he can hear what’s going on.

 

“It’s supposed to be over by now. Everyone’s listened to the tapes, the trial’s done, but you _still_ can’t keep yourself away from him.”

 

“Look, can we not do this right now? It’s—” He can hear Tony sigh, trying to find his words, “It’s not what you think. Yeah, we’ve gone through a bunch of shit together, but Clay is just a friend.”

 

Clay’s head snaps up at the mention of his name, and he can see Tony leaning underneath the hood of his Mustang, jaw tight as Brad hovers over him.

 

“That’s fucking bullshit, Tony!”

 

He can see Tony’s hands tightly gripping the sides of the car now, skin stretching tight against his knuckles. His eyes slip shut when Brad starts to yell at him again, like he’s trying to block out everything—and everyone—around him.

 

“You can’t just act like there’s nothing wrong, closing your eyes and wishing it away won’t work anymore,” Brad mutters bitterly.

 

But Tony doesn’t move, eyes still tightly shut.

 

“Why can’t you just fucking _talk_ to me?”

 

Clay strains his neck to try to get a better look at the two, confusion etched across his features. Why are Brad and Tony fighting because of _him_ again?

 

“I just . . . I just can’t do this anymore,” Brad says exasperatedly, “Not once have you made me feel like you’re my boyfriend. You’ve closed me out, you’ve cancelled _dates_ with me because _he_ needed something, you never tell me what’s going on anymore—I’m just fucking done.”

 

Brad starts down the driveway in silence, not even bothering to look back at Tony. He can see Brad’s face better now as he nears, his eyes glossy and red like he had been crying. Something Clay doesn’t doubt after seeing them fight like that. But he doesn’t even realize that he’s only a few feet away from where Brad’s car is parked, so deep in thought that Brad rounding the corner catches him off guard.

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Clay says under his breath, trying to reach for his bike before anyone sees him. But he can feel his foot getting caught in the chain as he tries to get on, and a second later he feels himself hitting the ground, hard. It doesn’t take much time before he can sense someone stopping in front of him. All he can bring himself to do is groan.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Brad says incredulously, his words harsh and full of malice. Clay winces, and not just because he hit his head.

 

“What, did Tony call you as soon as he could get rid of me?”

 

Clay keeps his eyes low as he tries to sit up, not daring to look up from the concrete underneath him. He may not know much about relationships, but he knows it’ll probably be easier for the both of them if he just kept quiet. (Plus, he’s just really shitty at confrontation.)

 

“Fuck you, Clay. And tell Tony he can go fuck himself, too.”

 

Clay can hear the engine of his car start up through his dizzy, guilt-ridden haze, and he watches Brad speed off down the road from the corner of his eye.

 

He finally reaches up to touch his forehead after a few minutes of just lying on the grass, in both pain and embarrassment. His old scar aching with a burn that he’s all too familiar with by now. Sure enough, there’s blood on his fingertips as soon as he pulls his hand back. He notices there’s blood on the sidewalk, too, marking where he hit his head.

 

“Clay? What in the hell happened?”

 

He glances up to see Tony rushing over to him, a wave of concern washing over his face when he notices the blood. He doesn’t even have the chance to say anything before Tony has his arms around his waist, helping him up to his feet with a tight grip. _He_ doesn’t even trust himself after a fall like that, so he lets himself lean further into Tony’s side with a quiet grunt. Maybe it’s for comfort, too. But he can’t make any of his thoughts out clearly through the throbbing in his head. All he knows is that he feels safe right now, Tony’s warmth easing the pain and confusion and the million different questions rushing through his mind. Trust just comes so easy when it’s Tony. It was like that from the very beginning, as much as he used to deny it to both Tony and himself. Even when they barely knew each other at all.

 

“Clay, you’ve gotta talk to me, buddy,” Tony murmurs, trying to keep his voice soft before it starts to rise in anger, “Did Brad do this? If he laid one fucking hand on you I’ll—”

 

“No, no, he didn’t do anything. I just tripped over my bike,” Clay quickly interrupts, because the last things he wants is to be the reason for another fight. “I was riding over and I noticed you guys fighting. When Brad tried to leave I was still standing there. So I panicked, and . . . I kind of fell on the sidewalk.”

 

It’s quiet for a moment before Tony ducks his head down at that, trying to cover his laugh. Clay can feel already his face heat up, his cheeks surely flushed pink. Why is he always so fucking awkward and weird?

 

When they get inside the Padilla’s house it’s surprisingly quiet, but he assumes that everyone must not be home yet. Tony is still smiling as they make their way towards his room, and Clay can’t help but smile a little, too. Tony’s whole vibe is just too damn contagious. And he can’t ignore how cute Tony looks when he’s smiling like that, either, but Clay can’t tell if that’s the possible concussion talking or not.

 

“I know I’m ‘ruggedly handsome’ and all, but maybe we should focus on your forehead instead of my lips,” Tony jokes with a wink, easing him down onto his bed before leaving the room.

 

“ _Oh God_ ,” Clay groans, face even more flushed with embarrassment than it was before. Why did he just do that? It has to be because of the head trauma. Would it be believable if he just blamed it on head trauma?

 

He starts to tap his fingers nervously against his thighs, still lost in utter confusion over what in the hell has happened in the last fifteen minutes. Again, he doesn’t know much about relationships, but that _has_ to break the “bro code” at one point or another. Then again, he’s not one of those guys who goes through life trying to prove his heterosexuality to everyone. He hasn’t even thought about his sexuality since those rumors about him being gay came out, and even then he didn’t really know. But what’s even more confusing is why in the hell is this is all coming to the surface now.

 

“Is your head feeling any better? I brought some Ibuprofen, in case you wanted it,” Tony interrupts, walking into the room with a hand full of items, “There’s some water over there.”

 

“Thanks,” Clay mumbles, taking the medicine from his hand with a furrowed brow.

 

“It probably wouldn’t hurt so much if you relaxed a little,” Tony replies, kneeling down in front of him with a wet washcloth. He reaches up and places his fingertips against Clay’s temple, slowly brushing them across the wrinkles on his forehead until his muscles relaxed.

 

“There,” Tony says, more to himself than to Clay, “Now stay still.”

 

He gently dabs at the cut on his head, making it start to burn all over again. But he tries to stay still so Tony can clean it as quickly as possible, even though he doesn’t necessarily mind him taking care of him like this.

 

“Why did you come over here, to begin with?” Tony asks, reaching over to grab the Band-Aid beside Clay’s leg. He glances back up with an amused look on his face, waiting for an answer. Clay can feel his fingers start to tap against his thigh again.

 

“I just wanted to check on you, after last night. I know I wasn’t much help after falling asleep . . . in your car,” Clay mumbles, internally dying at how awkward he is, “I just wanted to know everything was okay, but I know that after Brad leaving like that . . .”

 

Tony’s smile slowly slips away, and Clay immediately wishes he could take back what he said. _Fucking idiot_ , _he just broke up with his boyfriend_. But he doesn’t move away, thankfully, still cleaning up the rest of the blood before putting on the Band-Aid.

 

“That was so fucking dumb to say, I’m sorry,” Clay rushes out, searching Tony’s face for any sign or expression that would make him _not_ feel like the biggest asshole in the world.

 

“Clay, it’s fine,” Tony says firmly, “Things haven’t been so great for awhile, so I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve actually been the absolute shittiest boyfriend.”

 

Clay opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t find the right words. He doesn’t know much more about boys than he does about girls, so he really can’t say anything to make the situation better. But he wants to, because all he can see is how hurt Tony is. It’s not the usual laidback, aloof Tony that he knows. Just like last night. There’s only been a few times that Tony has ever really opened up to him, and it took forever before he could bring himself to do it.

 

“Do you want to go for a ride, maybe?” Tony suddenly asks, taking his bottom lip into his mouth. “If you don’t feel like it, it’s cool. I can take you back home.”

 

“No, I’d like to go,” Clay nods, smiling for reassurance.

 

He notices Tony’s eyes lighting up a little at that. Maybe there _is_ something he can do to make it better.

 

————

 

“This place definitely brings back memories.”

 

Tony parks a little ways away from the cliff out of habit, nodding as the two get out to lean up against the railing. They should feel alone, with how quiet and empty it is. But when looking out over the edge and at the sky filled with stars and lights from the different buildings in the city, they feel anything but that.

 

“Are you sure you’re comfortable coming up here?” Clay asks, thinking back to last night and how shaken up Tony seemed after his nightmare. “We can go somewhere else, if you want.”

 

“It’s cool,” Tony reassures, nodding towards the sky, “I like the view, so it’s worth coming up here. Besides, I can’t get over it if I’m always scared to come up here.”

 

It’s quiet again, but it isn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence. With anyone else it probably would be, but it’s never like that when he’s with Tony.

 

Before he gets too lost in his own thoughts, though, he can feel something warm brush against his fingers. He glances down and sees Tony’s hand only inches away from his own, much closer than it was before as it rests against the railing. He looks over to see if Tony’s looking at him, but his eyes are focused on the stars above them, a much softer gaze than Clay's used to him having.

 

So he moves his own hand closer, with some unknown surge of confidence, fingers slowly sliding on top of Tony’s hand. Even with how dimly lit it is, he can see the corners of Tony's lips tug into a small smile. It makes the confidence Clay had falter, replaced instead with a burst of nervous flutters.

 

“Hey, Clay—” Tony starts quietly, making Clay’s heart beat heavily in his chest.

 

“Is this—is this not okay?” Clay quickly asks, scared that Tony didn’t want this. He goes to move his hand, but Tony grabs it before he could move much farther.

 

He turns to face Clay, hand still holding his with a firm grip. “No, stay,” Tony urges, “Please?”

 

When Clay nods, Tony shakily reaches up with his free hand and brushes his fingertips across Clay’s forehead, much like he did earlier. But this time he lets it drop lower so that he's cupping his face, before letting it slowly slide down to rest gently on the back of his neck. Clay’s breath catches at that, unsure of what to do, or what _Tony’s_ going to do, or if either of them should do anything at all.

 

“I—” Tony stops himself, glancing briefly at Clay’s lips before trailing back up to his eyes. He starts to lean in slowly, hesitantly—their lips now merely a foot apart. Clay can feel how unbelievably warm Tony is, unable to focus on anything other than that.

 

But he can’t help but notice Tony’s body language, stiff and rigid. Almost like he’s holding himself back, even though he doesn’t want to. So Clay closes the space between them even more, to where their chests are pressed up against each other. Tony looks relieved at that, he thinks, or maybe he’s reading him completely wrong. But before Clay could even ask, Tony kisses his cheek, near the corner of his mouth. His lips are soft and warm, and Clay’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t _that_.

 

“Thank you,” Tony whispers, and Clay can only find himself nodding and leaning closer into Tony’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you can see, I've added onto this because I thought it would fit better than to post it on its own, so I hope you guys think so too! This might just turn into a little short story, but regardless, I'll be posting new along the way :)


	3. Chapter 3

This was a mistake, Tony thinks right off the bat. A huge, regretful clusterfuck of a mess. But he didn’t know who else to reach out to for something like this. Hannah was always his go to, especially when it came to relationship advice. Not just because they both kept each other’s secrets, but because she was the one who always accepted him, wholeheartedly and without a second thought. The one who gave him the courage he needed to go out of his comfort zone and do what made _him_ happy. To be himself. To live a life that Hannah herself couldn’t, especially now.

 

“So,” Ryan starts, eying Tony with clear amusement, “you’re telling me that after all of that, you didn’t even kiss him on the lips?”

 

Ryan arches an eyebrow at Tony, who’s silently staring back at him with a look that can only be described as a mix of disbelief and irritation. Ryan’s lips effortlessly slip into a teasing smirk at that, somehow maintaining the expression as he slowly takes a sip from his coffee cup.

 

“I think you’re already too far gone, Tony Padilla. Even I can’t help with something as tragic as that,” Ryan sighs flippantly, and Tony decides that yeah, he’s had enough.

 

He clumsily shoves away from the table separating the two, swiping his leather jacket from the back of his seat in haste so that he could get out of Monet’s as quickly as possible. He can hear Ryan chuckling into his drink, and it elicits a realization that hits Tony like a brick. This was quite simply one of the stupidest things he has done recently, which is saying something. Thinking that Ryan might actually take him seriously for once was nothing more than a fantasy.

 

“You know, despite everything that went down between us, I thought I could trust you with something like this. But I guess you really haven’t fucking changed after all, Ryan.”

 

He’s too embarrassed to even look him in the eyes at this point, but his words come out with enough bite to make up for any glare he could toss Ryan’s way. He turns to make his way toward the door, but Ryan makes a disgruntled noise that stops him in his tracks.

 

“Christ, I was just _kidding_ , Tony. I—just sit back down.” 

 

Tony begrudgingly looks over his shoulder and sees Ryan eyes glued to the table, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the tone of Tony’s voice. Despite every bone in Tony’s body screaming at him to leave, he pauses just long enough to see Ryan give him the most serious, earnest look than he’s ever seen on him before. It’s actually quite terrifying if Tony’s being honest.

 

“I know I may be a freak of nature to some, but if you haven’t noticed, we’re both in the same boat for that one. So, drop the dramatic attitude and _sit down_ ,” Ryan says hotly, and somehow it brings Tony crashing back down to earth.

 

So, he follows Ryan’s order, brushing away the loose strands of hair that fell into his eyes during his. . . _outburst_. He knows far too well that his anger issues need to be worked on, _a lot_. And he’s aware that Ryan also knows far too well. Just the thought of scaring him like he’s done in the past, much less cause a scene, forms a knot in the pit of his stomach.

 

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

 

“Save it, Tony,” Ryan replies, cutting him off with an eyeroll, “Let’s get back to the more pressing issue we have right now.”

 

Tony swallows hard, “And that is. . .?”

 

“Why, getting you to make a move on Clay Jensen, of course.”

 

———

 

Asking Ryan for advice on boys might not have been as bad as Tony thought it was. Not compared to right now, as he stands in front of Clay’s house with sweaty palms and a heart that’s thundering too loudly in his chest.

 

Ryan suggested that he takes things slow, considering he _just_ got out of a relationship. And because Tony’s not sure what these feelings even are. Or, better yet, how _Clay_ feels. Tony doesn’t even know if Clay’s into guys.

 

It’s only been a few days since the night on the cliff, and although Clay doesn’t seem bothered by what happened, Tony can’t be so sure. Clay has always joked about Tony being the mysterious one, but Clay keeps his fair share of secrets, too.

 

_“Start simple. A little flirty banter, discreet touching here and there. I mean, it’s Clay we’re talking about. It’s not rocket science,” Ryan says with a wave of his hands, “And for the love of God, do it somewhere private, like his house. You don’t do well in social settings.”_

 

“Slow and simple I can do,” Tony mumbles to himself as he stares down the door before him.

 

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he eventually musters up enough willpower to rap his knuckles against the door. It started softly at first, before more force was added by the third knock. In return is complete silence, but before Tony could knock again a familiar voice sounds behind him.

 

“Tony? What are doing here?”

 

Brown eyes meet blue as Tony turns around to see Clay straddling his bike, shoes scraping against the pavement as he rolls to a stop. His skin is flushed a blotchy pink, a soft glow at the highest points of his face from the sweat that dampens his skin. It only makes sense with how hot it is outside, but it leaves Tony feeling more breathless than Clay.

 

“I, uh, decided to come over,” Tony replies coolly. Or at least attempted to, hoping that Clay can’t get a clear view of him through the harsh glare of the sun.  

 

“I know that much,” Clay says with a short huff, getting his bike settled before jogging over.

 

“How’s your head?” Tony asks, in hopes to make things feel less awkward. Clay thankfully gives a small smile in response.

 

“Better, actually,” and after a short beat of silence, he adds, “Do you want to come in, maybe? You gotta be dying in that jacket.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Tony responds, “As long as that’s okay with your parents?”

 

“They’re not home yet, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Mom’s dying to have you over for dinner again.”

 

And if Tony weren’t nervous before, he sure as hell is now.

 

———

 

He’s not entirely sure how he’s done it, but he’s managed to make it up to Clay’s room in one piece. The two are firmly planted next one another on his bed, talking aimlessly about school and any brief updates they had on Justin or Alex, even Tyler and Skye. It’s nice, being able to talk to Clay like this. But Tony can’t help but zone out occasionally, too many confusing and unwanted thoughts cramming their way into his head.

 

“Is everything okay?” Clay asks slowly, eyes searching Tony’s face as if he’s just noticed how uncomfortable Tony looks beside him.

 

Clay scoots over a little when there’s no response, close enough that their knees brush together ever so slightly. The heat of their bodies bouncing off one another. Regardless of what exact moment caused it, the room suddenly feels too small. Like he’s a caged animal.

 

“I think that I like you,” Tony blurts out, and he can feel Clay stiffen beside him. So much for taking things slow.

 

“I, uh, like you too,” Clay replies slowly, as if the words feel foreign in his mouth. Tony’s heart crumbles a little at that.

 

“No, I mean—I think I _like_ you. _Like you_ like you.”

 

There’s urgency in his voice, eyes wild as they try to read Clay’s reaction.

 

“I think you’re cute, like really fucking cute. A lot more than just cute, but. I think it’s starting to make a lot of sense now. I just—I don’t want this to fuck things up. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Clay eventually mumbles, a flush creeping up his neck and to the tips of his ears.

 

He holds Tony’s gaze for only a few seconds before his eyes flicker down to his lap. There’s nothing of particular interest there, aside from his fingers fumbling around together out of habit. Tony wants so desperately to grab them so that they're intertwined with his own. But he can’t bring himself to do much more than look down at his own lap.  

 

“Maybe—” Clay stops, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

 

Tony peers up at him, and he can hear the shaky breath Clay takes before starting up again, “Maybe you can kiss me, or something? And see if that makes you feel anything?”

 

_What the fuck?_

 

“Okay,” Tony breathes out tentatively, in what sounds like more of a question than a statement.

 

“Okay.”

 

Clay’s voice sounds dry and rough to both of their ears, nearly cracking midway through. Tony doesn’t blame him, though. His own skin buzzes with the same excitement and nerves that’s just as evident in Clay.

 

With movement hesitant and gentle, Tony is the first to lean in. Clay follows suit by matching that same movement, eyes darting back and forth between Tony’s own eyes and lips. Soon after, Tony lets his hand drift across the sheets and come to a rest against Clay’s thigh. He can feel the muscles there contract underneath Clay’s jeans, rippling against the rough pads of Tony’s fingertips. Clay’s eyes slip shut from the pressure, a burst of heat working its way up his spine as he lets intuition bring him the rest of the way.

 

It’s not perfect, noses bumping together and lips messily moving against each other. But Tony tightens his grip on Clay’s thigh anyway, working through their clumsy movements until they even out to a languid pace. Once they’ve found their footing, Tony loses himself in how soft Clay’s lips are, how warm they feel against his own and the taste that reaches the tip of his tongue. Tony can’t help but to crave for more, though he listens to his better half and breaks away so that they can catch their breaths.

 

Clay quickly reaches up and grips the back of Tony’s neck when he does, not letting him get too far. A throaty laugh disrupts the stagnant air that’s clinging tightly to their skin, and Tony can’t help but join him. He’s not entirely sure what’s going through Clay’s mind right now, and instead of asking he opts to silently rest his forehead against Clay’s.

 

When Clay doesn’t make any effort to move away, it gives Tony the only answer he needs.


End file.
